


♦ Sound of the Falling Rain

by EvelynLawliet



Series: ♦ In Another Lifetime [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynLawliet/pseuds/EvelynLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester doesn't even remember when he slept, but he's certainly not in his tail end of the world when he wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	♦ Sound of the Falling Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments and suggestions are welcomed. My beta's my best friend Chris. If it weren't for him, I never would've writen it. Thanks a lot, assbutt <3 This is the third fanfic of a series that I'm not sure if it's completed, called 'In Another Lifetime', in which Dean is trying to save 2014!Cas. Maybe there'll be two or three more stories, but I'm not certain. Also, this fanfic is also on my Live Journal account under the same username.

One more day, one more patrol, one more kill and one more fuck to end everything well, that’s Dean Winchester’s life now as the leader of Camp Chitaqua and his personal little garrison of survivors of the apocalypse.

Which, by the way, he started.

But not all the blame can be set on his shoulders, right? After all, Sammy, the oh-so-loving-and-smart Sammy, was the one to perform the last act. And Dean’s not even talking about Lilith’s death, but about the big ‘yes’ that killed more than half of the world. Hell of a brother.

And hell of a leader. Dean wasn’t even there to stop him. But, of course, those are not things he’s allowed himself to think about. No, the crap was already thrown against the fan, now all he can do is trying to clean it up as best as he can.

Not that he has been doing a good job; he doesn’t even have the Colt yet, which means that he can’t move on with his insane plan of killing the devil. Things seemed a lot easier when Lucifer wasn’t wearing his little brother to the prom. Or when he had some upstairs help, for that matter.

Castiel is as useless as the pile of used condoms inside his trash can without his powers. Why is he still there, anyway? To remember Dean how he failed with every single soul he dared getting close to? That’s the only explanation the Winchester can find.

They both have been through lots of crap since Detroit, and at first Dean thought they could find a way to overcome everything, like they had done with all of the rest until then, but Castiel’s falling affected him in ways Dean will never be able to fix, no matter how hard he tried when it first started.

It’s easy, actually, to remember how Castiel cried on his shoulder after the angels disappeared, how desperate he was once his powers disappeared. Dean was there the whole time, and helped him the only way he could, with words and touches. Touches he can still feel under his fingertips. He remembers feeling worthless for not being able to do what he wanted and send all of Castiel’s pain away, how it hurt to hear his unstoppable sobs.

Now, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Not for Dean, anyway. He has worst problems than worrying about a fallen angel who would just burry himself on drugs, women and alcohol. If Castiel’s happy or miserable, it’s not Dean’s problem anymore.

The ex-angel is nothing but a shell of what he once used to be; of the man Dean fell in love with so long ago. Those feelings seem distant now, especially when Dean enters another cabin to alleviate the day’s stress. He’s never been a saint and he isn’t starting now that the world is ending.

Dean ignores the woman’s protests when he leaves her cabin. He doesn’t even remember her name, why bother to give her an explanation of why he’s going back to his own cabin? She doesn’t need an answer and Dean’s certainly not giving her one. He’s got what he wanted, no more need of being a ‘gentleman’, if that’s even the word to use.

Once he’s lying on his own bed – way more comfortable than the woman’s –, he stares at the ceiling for a few minutes. Today’s patrol was harder than usual, but he finally has a lead on where the Colt might be. He’s been looking for the gun for five years and he’ll have his chance of getting it in exactly three days.

Three days before he sends Castiel, Risa, and a few other soldiers to certain death.

Well, that’s the price they pay for only being useful as baits. It’s not like Dean’s going to feel guilty about it, not when he’ll save the small part of the world that still lives. They’ll die as soldiers, after all, on a battlefield. It’ll be an honorable death.

Probably something like one hour goes by before he actually gets to sleep – he doesn’t remember it quite well –, succumbed to the darkness that always involves his nights. Ever since Detroit Dean has never had another dream, maybe too broken, destroyed and tired to have even a glimpse of happiness.

When he wakes up again, he’s confused. The place he’s in is definitely not his old wooden cabin in Camp Chitaqua, but a cheap motel room a lot fancier than the places he’s been to in the last two or three years. It remembers him of somewhere he and Sam used to stay during his hunts before the whole apocalypse crap started.

This isn’t the world he knows now and there’s some serious crap going on. Dean pats his shin and is happy to find his silver knife still well placed. The next thing he tries to find is his gun, which is also where he should be. Okay, so he’s still armed. So what is he dealing with? A thing that’s not afraid of his weapons? That’s certainly not something to be alarmed by, right?

Wrong. There’s something that wants Dean’s head on a stick – again – and he’s not doing his job, which means that people are in danger and he has to get back to camp as soon as possible.

He stands up slowly, looking around and examining the new territory. Looks just a harmless motel, but nothing is actually what it seems, if any of his experiences count are anything to go by. Right now he’s probably in the middle of infected area and the Croats will appear at any second. He’s gotta move and it’s gotta be now.

Except that he can’t. Because he heard a hunk. Lots of hunks. And voices. Carefully, Dean approaches the window and he jaw drops instantaneously. This is _definitely_ not the world he lives in. Cars are being driven by actual people and the stores work. That without mentioning the several people walking down the street and talking, laughing and living their normal lives as if it wasn’t 2014 and the world wasn’t at its end.

What the fuck is going on? The Winchester heads slowly to the door, his hand on top of his jacket pocket where his gun is placed, ready to kill anything that gets in his way. He opens the door at once, but the people walking on the hallway only frown at him and keep going towards where they were before his appearance.

The right – and recommended – thing to do would be going back to the bedroom and throwing himself under the blankets again, because this has _got_ to be a dream. There’s no fucking way he got back in time some way. There are no angels left and, as he said so before, Castiel is nothing but dead weight now.

Maybe Lucifer did it? He could, no doubts, but why? Is there any chance that he found out about Dean’s plan of killing him? Even if he did, Lucifer would never have run from a fight, so no, it wasn’t Lucifer. Then who?

Dean has no idea and, instead of choosing the wise and safe alternative, he chooses the one that will probably end his life, but it’s in his blood to chase after his enemy and slay the crap out of him.

So Dean shuts the door behind him and starts walking towards the stairs, because there’s no way that he’ll use an elevator. None of his soldiers are here and he doesn’t have to continue putting his ‘macho’ instincts and face his fears. Well, not that he’s actually afraid of the elevator – or that he won’t enter a plane if the moment calls for it –, but why risk, right? The thing can break or fall at any moment and he’s not sure if dying would help the world very much.

Climbing down the stairs is obviously the best choice, so that’s the one he picks and in no time he’s in the lobby. A normal lobby, with actual people in it. Whichever bastard did this to him has a very good idea of what the world used to be.

Some options run through his mind. He could have been captured by a Djinn, who thought would be nice to show him some of the world and people he couldn’t save before sucking his blood like a fucking vampire. But the things aren’t as perfect as in the other Djinn’s illusion. Sam’s not here, for one, and neither is Mary. Okay, John wasn’t there the last time, but things were better than they were now.

Not even Castiel – the right one, with the trench coat and all – is back, so y—“Hello Dean.”

The voice comes from behind him, but Dean doesn’t want to turn, because he knows what he’ll see. And then he’ll know that this is nothing but an illusion and he’ll have to find the dumbass’s hide out before he runs out of blood. He stays like that, facing the street and watching the people walking as if their lives were normal, until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Then he’s back into the bedroom and Castiel is looking at him. Dean has to swallow around a knot forming in his throat, because that Castiel is the one he used to love. The shiny eyes, confused expression, small tilt of the head, trench coat, formal clothes and that intense gaze that always took Dean’s breath away.

Also, there’s something new there. Something he’s seen inside the eyes of the Castiel he has to live with more than once when the ex-angel tried to talk to him about fixing things up and Dean would only get his knife and press it against his neck, often cutting it before commanding him to get out. It’s a small dot of fear and maybe even some regret. “You,” the Winchester says between clenched teeth. “What do you want?”

Castiel narrows his eyes a little and gives some steps forward, invading his personal space like he told him million times not to do. Except that he didn’t, because he didn’t talk to this Castiel, who hasn’t done anything to hurt him. Yet. “Talk to you,” he says simply.

If this was the drug addict stupid ass back in the camp, Dean would already be threatening him with a gun and harsh voice, but it isn’t and, for a reason the blonde can’t seem to understand, he doesn’t want to scare this guy. What, the feelings he had buried inside him after Castiel’s first orgy decided to come back now only because he saw a better version of the fallen angel? Stupidity. That’s what this is.

“You brought me here,” Dean says. It’s not a question; he can still read Castiel’s body language pretty well, even after all this time. The angel nods anyway and Dean looks around slowly. “Where is here?”

Sucking on his lips, Castiel avoids Dean’s questioning gaze. “2009. You asked me to talk to you,” he whispers under his breath.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, saddle down, cowboy! Dean has never asked anybody to do anything for him. Not since Detroit anyway. “Meaning?”

The blue-eyed sighs and shakes his head. “I told you it was a bad idea.” He pauses and Dean waits – impatiently – for him to continue. “You, the 2009 version of you, asked me to bring you here so we could talk. He knows you want to use me as bait for your surprise attack to Lucifer and he asked me to talk you out of it. I don’t see the point, you wouldn’t listen,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean sees himself in a retarded moment. His brain doesn’t seem to work, because Castiel just told him that a past version of himself knows he’d kill a useless piece of nothing and asked the version of this useless piece of nothing when he was still worth something to stop him with some _talk_. Yeah, perhaps he should stop drinking before going to bed. “Sure, that’s very possible, happened yesterday too, but I woke up in Egypt to talk to the beauty queen of Mars instead of a crappy motel room,” Dean jokes and Castiel’s head tilts again as his jaw drops a little. “This is bullshit,” the green-eyed clarifies, remembering that this Castiel doesn’t understand sarcasm. “There’s no fucking way that I’d try to stop myself from sending the shitty version of you to a deadly mission.”

He sees the small raise of Castiel’s chin, trying to look superior. It only makes Dean want to punch him even more than he already does. How dare he bringing him here and lying at him? Why, so he could get some laughs? Oh no, not from Dean. “And you know why?” the Winchester asks, approaching him with anger in his eyes. “Because you are _nothing_ to me. Never were and never will be.”

Castiel’s breath is uneven and Dean’s almost sure that’s his heart pounding. That without mentioning the increasing brightness of his eyes. Really, he’s using tears on Dean? Well, sorry, pal, but that trick doesn’t work anymore. “Don’t you dare saying such things to me,” Castiel’s voice rises again, his mouth twitching awkwardly with disbelief. “Not after everything I sacrificed for you.”

“Sacrificed for me?” Dean shouts at him, because he’s _so_ not letting Castiel turn this against him. “I showed you the right way and you followed it by will, I didn’t force you to do anything.”

The fallen angel makes a strange noise on his chest that Dean’s pretty sure is a growl. Oh, so he decided to be a dog now. How cute. “My home, my believes, my family, my life, my power, my happiness, my Father. I gave all of that up for you and your own believes. Tell me, Dean, how many times have you had to give so much up to follow one person? One person who you know would never repay you or care about you as much as you care about him?”

What, Castiel is talking about himself? That’s what he actually thinks that happened? “You think I didn’t care for you at first? I fucking loved you, you stupid son of a bitch! And instead of being there for me, what did you do? You buried yourself in alcohol, drugs and sex! That’s what you call caring about me?”

They’re so close right now that their breaths are mixing with each other, becoming one. This isn’t the first time he fights with Castiel, but it’s the first one in which he almost regrets saying those words. He knows they hurt him and he knows the fallen angel hasn’t even done those things yet, but he will do. And he seems to know everything about his ‘2014 version’. “I did it because that’s what you taught me to do. That’s the way you showed me to forget about the pain. You’d rather have me crying me on your shoulders for the rest of our lives? Because that’s exactly what I would do if you hadn’t told me to go and try to make something out of being human. You were the one who shoved me out of that cabin when I asked you to talk to me about what was happening. You were the one who pressed a knife against my neck. You were the one who got tired of me and sent me away.”

In some other fight a few years back – something around 2010 and 2011 –, Dean might have kissed him. That’s what he usually did when they fought. No, that’s what _they_ usually did after a fight. They tried to forget it by drowning on each other’s heat and it worked so well that it scared Dean. He would wake up feeling new and ready to face the next day.

Of course, that’s back when he still had hopes of saving Sam. Now, he has no hopes and he has no reason to listen to bullshit. That’s why he raises his hand and slaps Castiel’s face mercilessly. The angel falls back and Dean’s glad he has fallen, otherwise that would have hurt as Hell.

Dean’s completely ready to leave and go back to his own year so he can work on his damn plan about approaching the building Lucifer’s in without being noticed. And he’s almost reaching the door, but then he looks back one last time and Castiel is looking at him.

If that was the Castiel from his timeline, he would have been angry and growled at him, or even tilt his head back and laugh sarcastically, as if Dean had told the best joke ever. Maybe he would grin at him then and ask him to join the next orgy and use that strength while slamming his cock inside him.

But then again, that isn’t the Castiel from his timeline.

That Castiel is the one Dean fell in love with and his eyes are showing nothing more than sadness, disappointment and a bit of understanding. The last one is what kills Dean. It’s as if Castiel had just ripped his heart out and stepped on it several times only to hear the once oh-so-great hunter scream. That’s how much it hurts.

Slowly, Castiel brushes his fingertips along the red mark of Dean’s hand. It’s a painful scene to watch because Castiel winces lightly, but it’s a sound so soft that is barely even there. A long time has gone by since Dean felt something hitting him that strongly when it came to emotions. He has locked all of his feelings inside a dark area of his brain so to become a better leader to his soldiers, and everything vanishes just like that, with the sight of that angel who’s afraid Dean will hurt him again, but also wants to get close to him.

Why? Why does Castiel still want anything to do with Dean? He shouldn’t want it for some many reasons that Dean’s head hurts to even try and think about it. But yet, there the angel is, looking at him with such devotion, trust, desperation, sadness, and, above all, a look that he hasn’t seen in such a long time that makes his chest feel tighter.

Love. Castiel – this Castiel, the right one, the _real_ one – loves him, as a member of his family, as a friend and maybe, just maybe, as something more. Dean can’t tell, because he hasn’t touched him here yet. He still remembers their first kiss pretty well, back in 2010. Best day of his life.

Like waves, all of Castiel’s feelings are knocking against his emotion-proof wall. It’s strange to feel it trying to keep them out after what? A year? Perhaps more. But they’re strong here; Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to hold them back even if he wanted.

And, as surprising as it is, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to hold his feelings back. Doing it every single day of his life takes so much effort that this is the main reason that he almost can’t stay sober for more than an hour. So why hold back, now that Castiel is there? Now that the Castiel he fell in love with is right there? And fuck, Dean slapped him.

Carefully, doing his best not to scare him, the green-eyed man approaches the fallen angel. Castiel just stares at him, that small presence of fear making itself bigger as Dean gets closer. The Winchester raises his hands in front of his chest in a sign of piece, showing Castiel that he doesn’t want to harm him.

Innocence in its purest form, that’s what Castiel’s eyes reminds Dean of. It’s a strangely pleasant feeling that makes the blonde want to be faster, but he restrains his wants in order to get Castiel to trust him again. And it’s so incredibly _easy_ to do it. In one moment Castiel is looking at him with fear and in the other there’s only devotion.

That always so present devotion that Dean never understood back then and probably will. He bites the inner side of his cheek as he kneels himself in front of where Castiel is sitting and the way the angel’s head is tilting – because that’s basically the only thing he does when he’s confused –, reminds Dean that he’s never been touched.

Having to have that feeling again is the best thing Dean could ask for and he wonders why it was given to him. There’s no reason why someone – especially himself – would make this the new best day of his life. Because it doesn’t matter how wrong this should be, them being from different timelines, Dean hating the angel’s other self, and hiding his feelings for almost two years. This should be wrong.

But then again, that’s Castiel. How can it be wrong when it’s about Dean and Castiel?

Dean’s looking at the blue-eyed angel’s fingertips brushing his cheek. They’re soft, but Dean can see how he’s afraid to hurt himself. The Winchester covers Castiel’s hand with his own and the angel opens his eyes wildly. Probably he wasn’t expecting Dean to be so gentle and, being honest with himself, Dean wasn’t expecting it either.

Slowly, Castiel’s fingers slide out of the way and then there are just Dean’s. He moves them along the skin of the blue-eyed angel’s cheek, his jaw line and contours the shape of his lips. God, this is _Castiel_. It’s not the broken shell of an angel that is waiting him back at Camp Chitaqua. This is the guy who doesn’t understand that reference, who rebelled against Heaven for Dean, and who would do anything to see a smile on the Winchester’s face.

He knows, deep inside, that the other Castiel, the ‘2014 version’, would also do it. Somewhere, something inside him says this guy is just sleeping inside the broken ‘Love Guru’, waiting to be brought back to life. And Dean knows he could do it, if he wasn’t so broken himself.

Looking at this Castiel, though, he feels alive again. He feels that there’s something worth fighting for. That’s the feeling that gets him to lean in and brush his lips against Castiel’s in a movement even softer than the first time he’d done it. Dean’s saying, silently, that he can pull away if he wants to, that he won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to.

Castiel, God bless him, doesn’t seem wanting to pull away, though. Actually, he chases after Dean when the blonde allows his hand to fall back to his lap and gets ready to leave things at that. Maybe none of them expected Castiel’s next move, because the angel cups Dean’s jaw and holds him in place while he takes the lead and brushes his lips against Dean’s once more.

Well, Dean has never been a saint and he isn’t starting now. Instead of doing what should be the right thing to do, the Winchester holds the back of Castiel’s neck with one hand and his tie with the other, pulling him closer and slightly licking at his lips, asking for entrance. He’s actually surprised with the almost non-existing resistance he comes across.

Just as the first time, Castiel seems eager for it, but both of them are a lot slower and more exploring. Dean notices easily that Castiel is following his directions and he could rape his mouth right here and right now and Castiel would be a willing participant.

The thing, though, is that he doesn’t want to. He feels like he’s coming back home and he wants to take his time with getting to know this territory again. It’s so equal and so different that it feels like this is their first kiss.

He digs his fingers inside Castiel’s hair and runs his fingers down his chest until reaching his belt. Dean avoids it and goes to his leg, caressing it lightly. One thing is for sure, if Castiel is not ready to get things going and head to bed right after the first kiss, like happened back in 2010, Dean won’t complain. He’s more than happy to get to kiss him properly again and that’s everything he could ask for.

Still, it looks like Castiel has a different idea. The angel scratches at Dean’s cheeks with his nails being careful not to hurt him before shyly and clumsily wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist. It’s such a surprising and so Castiel movement that Dean actually catches himself smiling against the angel’s lips. And that...That’s the best feeling ever.

Dean’s happy Castiel’s back is pressed against the wall, because otherwise they’d have fallen when the blonde tried to stand up with Castiel refusing to let go. He’s completely wrapped around Dean, now that he embraced the green-eyed man’s neck with his arms. Everything is new again, because that sweetness wasn’t there when Dean first kissed him.

Yeah, okay, they were both a bit drunk – Castiel had just drank half of a liquor store –, and things were a bit rushed because Sam would be back at any minute, but Dean can’t remember ever kissing Castiel that way. It’s so refreshing…It’s both of them telling each other that they not only _want_ each other, they _need_ each other.

Overwhelming. That’s the only word that comes to Dean’s mind to describe this moment. He takes his time walking towards the bed, a lot more interested in curling his tongue with Castiel’s and tasting him again. The angel doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it, so why bothering?

When they do get to the bed, Dean holds Castiel’s head with the hand that’s digging inside his hair and lays him down, taking his jacket off before lying on top of him. They probably look like some chick flick gay movie, but this is the last thing Dean’s going to care about now. It’s been a long time since he stopped giving a crap about his sexuality. Few months before he first kissed Castiel, actually.

They start moving against themselves, hips brushing teasingly. “I missed you so much,” Dean whispers when he pulls away from Castiel’s lips to place soft kisses along his cheek and jaw line. He gives special attention to the place where the mark of his hand is slowly fading. “I’m so sorry.”

Castiel shakes his head and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair in such a loving way that almost forms a lump on the Winchester’s throat. “I understand. You’ve been through a lot and a big share of it is my fault. I wasn’t there to protect you when you most needed me.” He places a kiss on Dean’s forehead to show him he’s sorry.

You know, when Dean’s the one saying – or thinking, for that matter – that, things are so much easier…“No,” the green-eyed starts and it feels good to finally get these things out of his chest. “You were there, I just didn’t look around. You fell for me, Cas, you said so yourself.”

Only after saying it that Dean realizes he hasn’t used this nickname for two years. It stings, as if he had been bitten by a snake and its poison was now running on his veins. “I did. And I would do it again.”

That’s basically what Dean needs to shut him with a breath-taking kiss. The sweetness is still there, but the desperation is perfectly combined, a thousand apologies for the terrible things he did, thought, and said. Cas didn’t deserve any of that. Hell, Dean knows very well how it is to have an absent father, or to lose his entire family. He tried to be there for Castiel when it started happening to him, but he was so focused on his own fucking problems that the ‘efforts’ he was making were nothing more than offering his dick as a consolation prize. Hell of a boyfriend!

He feels Castiel’s hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to get it off. Dean helps him, breaking the kiss just for a second and starting to undo his tie. Gosh, such a long time since he’s felt the actual pleasure of removing those pieces. The trench coat requires a lot more of attention and Dean decides to leave it for the final lap.

Instead, the Winchester man undoes the buttons of Castiel’s shirt as the angel pulls him back down, sealing their lips together once more. When he’s done with the shirt and only God knows the tie’s destination, he places his knees on either sides of Castiel’s hips and finds the angel’s hands sliding down his neck. Dean takes them with his own and pulls him to sit down with him.

Willingly, Castiel follows him, allowing Dean to guide him through this. The blonde sits on the angel’s legs and releases his hands to use his own so he can touch his bare chest. Only this small contact makes Castiel shiver under his fingers and Dean smiles again. That’s the most he has done it for more than a year now.

His hands keep moving upwards until they reach Castiel’s shoulders. Then, he puts them on top of the layers of clothes and slides them out. Realizing what he’s doing, Castiel helps him one arm at a time, much more worried about touching Dean’s collarbone, neck, cheeks, chest, and basically anything he can get his hands on.

Castiel’s innocence still shines like diamonds between them and that’s what gets Dean going on. It’s that small piece of Heaven he keeps to himself, right in the blue of his eyes. Dean still remembers when Castiel was pulled back to ‘Paradise’ and Jimmy Novak was the only thing left. The first thing that caught Dean’s attention was how the spark on his eyes was different. Suddenly, they weren’t so blue or so beautiful and that thought disturbed the Winchester through long and several nights.

Now, that spark was shining at its greatest, the pure essence that is Castiel making it fiery, as if millions of lives, souls, were saved with just a glimpse of it. And that’s exactly how Dean feels. He feels saved, free, hopeful. Feelings he hasn’t felt in more time than he can actually bring himself to count.

It’s Castiel. It’s always been Castiel and it will always be. What took him so long to notice? To notice that Castiel will always be Castiel, no matter if he’s fallen, broken, drugged, drunk, or whatever the Hell he decides to do. He’ll always be Dean’s last sparkle of hope. The last piece of rope he has to hang on to.

That realization hits him so hard that gives him a little headache. Or perhaps that’s because Castiel is tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention to help him with his belt. “We don’t have to do it,” Dean says, meeting the angel’s eyes again.

But Castiel only runs his fingers through Dean’s hair once more before looking back at him. “I want to,” he answers and laces his fingers around Dean’s belt loop, pressing their cocks together and Cas is so hard it nearly hurts.

Cas. Dean’s not even aware he’s back to using this nickname. Feels good. He answers the angel’s request and takes both of their belts off. The memories from their first time comes back again, how Dean eagerly mouthed Cas’s cock once it was free from all of those layers of clothes. This time, though, Dean wants to do it differently, because nothing is the same and he doubts it will ever be.

They only have to decide if that’s good or bad. So instead of giving Cas a blowjob, like his libido is telling him to do, he nips his bottom lip. Maybe he’s doing it wrong, being so girly when he could give Cas some pretty rough sex that they would both take a good time to recover from.

Yet, he doesn’t _feel_ wrong. Actually, he feels more ‘right’ than he has in his whole life. It feels right to be gentle to Cas, to show him how a real couple acts like. Because, truth is said, that’s exactly what they are. He has no idea of where his version of this year is – probably screwing around in 2014 –, but he knows that once he’s back, they’ll be a lot closer.

Only because Dean remembers falling in love with Cas when he left Heaven to help him. Of course, there were tons of eye-sex and sexual tension between them before that, but that’s the exact day when Dean realized he couldn’t live without him anymore. Yeah, imagine how it felt when Chuck told him Cas was dead.

Dean lowers Cas’s pants together with his boxers as trailing from the angel’s ear to his shoulder and back again. That’s when Dean remembers he doesn’t have lube or condoms. Fuck. “Cas,” he calls and the angel opens his eyes to look at him. “I don’t have anything for that kind of situation.”

God, he really hopes Cas understands and doesn’t have him to explain. The slight tilt of his head tells Dean that God doesn’t listen to prayers very much. Not able to actually put it on words, he looks down and back at him. “Oh,” Cas says and gives him a little smile. “This is your room, Dean. I’m pretty sure you have what we need.”

If there has ever been a moment when Dean was actually happy for being a sex addict, this is it. He stands up placing small kisses on Cas’s lips and wonders where he would put something like that. Well, being Dean Winchester, the only obvious place is the nightstand. And…Bingo!

Smiling at the lube – what, he could hope something would happen with Cas at that time, okay? – and the condom, he walks back to the bed, but gets a moment to admire the perfect lines of Cas’s body. So pure yet, no scars and untouched. Makes Dean lose the track of time, only noticing that he’s been staring for too long by Cas’s blush and his little attempts of hiding inside himself.

Again, Dean catches himself smiling as he climbs back to the bed after taking the rest of his own clothes off. He makes a track of kisses on Cas’s chest, giving special attention to the places where he remembers seeing a scar. “Just tell me to stop if you need it, okay?” the Winchester asks, concerned.

Cas swallows and nods slightly. It’s possible that he won’t feel much pain, because he’s still an angel, but he felt Dean’s hand, so we never know. Trying to give him some reassurance, Dean kisses his lips slowly, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb along it. When he thinks Cas is more comfortable, he opens the bottle of lube and squeezes it so the fluid falls on his fingers, without breaking the kiss.

Almost without being noticed, he starts teasing Cas’s hole with the tip of one finger. Instantaneously Cas rolls his hips in time with Dean’s movements. He knows that the teasing should have been having effect on Cas, but his cock doesn’t seem to share the same brain as he does, because it’s twitching achingly between his legs.

And then Cas grinds his hips down Dean’s finger and that’s all it takes. He slides it in and the angel starts biting his lips, trying to stop those amazing sounds Dean knows only he can do. Dean wants to hear them again and he knows exactly what to do to get what he wants, but this here isn’t about pleasure.

It’s about Dean and Cas, and everything they feel for each other. So Dean only slides another finger in, avoiding Cas’s prostate purposefully. He wants him to feel it once Dean’s cock is inside him, not after, not before. One more finger finds its way in and Cas is nearly having pleasure spasms on the bed, throwing his head back so desperately that Dean’s impressed he hasn’t broken something yet.

You see, although Cas has always been the most innocent guy ever, he can’t exactly keep himself under control in bed. Dean wonders if he even tries to keep it down, or if he just lets it out. By the small line of blood on his lips, Dean would go with saying that he tries.

Not long after, he slides his fingers out and Cas, the teaser, actually _whimpers_ at the loss. Thanks, Cas, you’re helping Dean’s cock a lot. The Winchester puts the condom while giving himself a few slow strokes and his jaw nearly drops when he catches Cas watching him mesmerized. Holy fuck, that’s the first glimpse of lust in Cas’s eyes and Dean’s getting to see it again. He really does have to meet himself from this year, because he’s gotta thank him _a lot_.

Cas flicks his eyes back to Dean and swallows once more. He knows this is the part where he’ll probably be in pain and Dean hates it. That’s the only bad thing of being Cas’s first. “Hey,” Dean calls him again, waiting until he has those amazingly blue eyes focused on his own. “Keep looking at me.”

The angel nods and Dean holds his gaze as he carefully and painfully slowly slides in. Cas contracts himself, his eyes wide, but he never stops looking at Dean. “Relax,” the blonde advices and Cas obeys immediately. It gets a lot easier getting in when there’s not much resistance, FYI.

Dean stops once he’s all in, giving both Cas and himself some time to get used to the new sensation. They’re panting already, finding it difficult to breathe with only their noses. Dean’s necklace hangs between them as he waits for Cas to allow him to go on. Doesn’t take long, a minute tops, and he’s moving.

And _holy fuck_. He had forgotten how it feels to be inside Cas. It sends small shivers of joy running all along his spine. Dean’s gentle the whole time, not chasing after release, but after Cas. He only wants to feel the angel and let him know that everything he said was nothing but bullshit, that Cas means everything to him.

Cas lets out a small moan and Dean buries himself inside that sound, nosing at his neck and kissing the corner of his mouth until Cas turns and kisses him properly. Then, once their mouths are sealed, Dean changes the angle and hits Cas’s prostate.

If that isn’t the best sound ever, Dean has no idea what it is. Cas actually pulls back and screams/growls/moans/groans with his eyes shut, back arching from the bed. Dean keeps hitting his sweet spot repeatedly, and the sound keeps coming out, a little more contained each time until it settles to a pattern that sounds like a moan/whimper.

Since he’s about to go and kiss Cas’s neck, he’s surprised when the angel does it first. Except that he’s not kissing, he’s _licking_. “Fuck!” Dean curses under his breath, unable to do much more now that he’s reaching his orgasm.

Knowing it isn’t easy to come for the first time without being touched – there, he admitted, he likes to change positions from time to time, if Cas is the one on the other end –, he runs his fingers down Cas’s chest, scratching at his crotch and making him shiver. Dean bites at his shoulder lightly and reaches for Cas’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. The angel moans louder, grinding down against Dean’s dick and up against his hand.

The sight is nearly killing him, especially when Cas starts mumbling incoherent things. “Dean, please, it’s so…Help, Dean…”

Oh fuck, Cas, if you want to come first, better stop the talking in that tone even deeper than the one you usually talks in. “Let go, Cas,” is all Dean can whisper on the angel’s ear.

And just like that Cas is coming all over Dean’s hand, having spasms so strong that are getting their way to Dean’s body. He happily allows his orgasm to sneak in, Cas’s pressure against his cock even stronger now that he’s coming.

Dean thinks he’s never come so hard. The whiteouts behind his eyes make him dizzy and he can’t stop falling on top of Cas. They stay quiet for a long moment as Dean slides out of him with one last shiver, throwing the condom somewhere in the room as he stands up to put his clothes back on. Dean’s never been one of those guys who like to stay without his clothes after sex, except when he’s going to sleep.

He lies down next Cas afterwards. The bed is tiny, but they make it work, looking at each other, Cas’s leg between both of Dean’s, arms wrapped around the Winchester’s torso as Dean caresses his back lightly. There’s so much he wants to say…So many apologies. Cas sets his head under Dean’s and noses at his neck kindly.

To tell the truth, Dean almost wishes he could stay. The night is falling outside and he knows, somehow, that he’ll be back in his own year once the dark settles in. But that ‘almost’ part is what stops him from saying it, because, no matter how broken Castiel is, he’s still Cas. And Dean wants to go back and help him fix everything. They can do it together, he knows they can. “You’re sending me back now, aren’t you?” Dean asks, his heart beating a bit faster than usual as Cas nods.

“I have to bring you, the ‘here’ you back,” he replies, contouring Dean’s throat with his lips.

Dean understands, he really does, but he can’t go without saying some things. “You know that I didn’t mean it, right? When I said you were nothing to me.” Cas stills under his touch and curls closer. “You’re everything to me, Cas. Always have been, and I’m stupid for saying those things to you.” He brushes his fingertips on Cas’s cheek, where his hand had been placed just a few – minutes, hours? – moments before. “And for hitting you. God, I’m so sorry, Cas. For everything.”

The angel shuts him with a finger on his lips. He raises his head so he can replace his finger by his own lips as he kisses Dean lovingly. “It’s in the past, doesn’t matter anymore.” Cas hesitates before continuing. “You have to know something,” he says and Dean waits, still caressing his back. “I knew.”

Frowning, Dean’s about to ask him to elaborate when he realizes Cas isn’t done. “I knew, in 2014, you were going to use me as bait.” Dean stops. What does he mean he knew? Okay, Cas is an angel and all, but can he see into his other timelines? “And I was ready to go. It’s not that big of a sacrifice if I’m already dead to you. But what you need to know is that this is why the you from here asked me to take him there. Two months ago, Zachariah sent him to the day of tomorrow into your time. He saw me in that building, and he was set that he could convince me not to go. He was wrong, because although he was the one to ask me, _you_ were the one who asked me to enter. Dean, you have to understand that all I’m seeking in your year is your forgiveness. I’m telling you here because I know I won’t tell you there. And you deserve to know it, that what I do, it’s not because I want to kill myself faster, but because I have lost all of my hopes. If you ask him, he’ll probably tell you that it’s the end and why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out, whatever that means.” Cas makes a grimace and licks his lips, hesitating again and Dean knows that the next part will be even worse than that last one.

Because, of course, knowing that Castiel knows he was going to use him as bait and was willing to go in the mission because Dean was the one who’d ask, isn’t torture enough. “You can’t go to that building, Dean,” Cas says.

What? But that’s where Lucifer will be and that’s his only chance to save his tail end of the world. “Why?” he asks instead, basically because that’s the only thing he can make out.

More hesitation. Fuck, Dean _hates_ when Cas hesitates. “You die there.”

Fucking good reason, both to the hesitation and not going. “But, Cas, this is the only chance I’ll have to defeat Lucifer and send him back to Hell,” he tries to reason.

Cas, though, never liked ‘reasoning’. “I know. But he saw you dying there.” The angel’s eyes meet Dean’s and he has to swallow with how dry his throat became suddenly. “Promise me you won’t go.”

He wishes he could. He fucking wishes he could, because he doesn’t want to die now that he’s going to be okay with Cas, or at least he hopes so. “Hey,” Dean interjects out of the blue. “You said you died there, right? As bait?” Cas nods slowly and Dean grins – holy fuck, he’s grinning – at him. “But I won’t use you as bait anymore. We’ll go fight him together, what about that?”

And there the adorable tilt is again. It’s so cute that makes Dean want to kiss him stupid. “Well, I suppose that then we’d both die anyway,” he estates.

Dean rolls his eyes at him. “Haven’t I taught you already that destiny is meant to be changed?” Cas makes a disapproving sound and Dean kisses his nose. “And even if we die, then we’ll die together, like we should.”

A small smile takes place on Cas’s lips and he kisses Dean once more, taking his time with memorizing his taste. “I’ll miss you,” the angel says after a moment and Dean chuckles lightly.

“I’ll miss you too,” he assures and kisses the top of his head. They stay like this for a long time until Cas falls asleep.

As soon as it happens, Dean’s back in 2014, but he’s not inside he’s old cabin, and there’s a familiar heat curled around him, exactly how he was curled around past Cas. He looks down, although he actually didn’t need to. That feeling is way too familiar to be forgotten.

This morning, if a moment like this came to happen, he would shove Castiel aside and get back to his own bed, driven mad about actually allowing himself to let his feelings come between them. But this is not this morning or any moment before.

This is now and, in this very moment, he only wants to stay exactly like that. Dean draws him closer and Cas snuggles against him, getting comfortable. Once the morning comes, he’ll talk to Cas and they’ll find some way to fix things up. They always did and they always will.

Right now, he’ll just sleep to the sound of the falling rain.


End file.
